


Like jello to the marshmallow

by Liviapenn



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-06
Updated: 2004-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a rule Jim tried not to pull at the loose threads of his existence too much. It never ended well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like jello to the marshmallow

**Author's Note:**

> A little schmoop for sloganeer.

Later on Jim wasn't really sure how the conversation started, but hell, that was par for the course. After three years, four or five countries, a couple of different cars, the end of one of Sandburg's careers, the development of various extrasensory abilities... He still wasn't quite sure how any of it fit together. Him and Sandburg, mainly. How it had started. Why it hadn't ended. As a rule Jim tried not to pull at the loose threads of his existence too much. It never ended well.

So, really, he was pretty much willing to roll with the fact that on this particular sunny Sunday afternoon, he found himself slouched on the couch with Sandburg, a bowl of chips between them, beer bottles littering the coffee table, a manly football game going on TV, deeply enmeshed in a really meaningful discussion about what it was like to fall in love.

"Love is weird," Blair said thoughtfully. "It's so many things, the pinnacle of so many converging apexes, you know? It's cultural, emotional, chemical, some people even say it's addictive. A relationship with another person is like the be-all and end-all of existence, but only within the cultural guidelines, only if you do it right, you know? Like if two people get divorced, all of a sudden everything's in question. Were they ever really in love? Which is stupid, you know? People take it way too seriously. That's not the point."

Jim eyed the halftime show suspiciously, then squinted at Sandburg. "So, wait. What _is_ the point of love, then? According to you."

Sandburg tipped his head back against the couch, his arm propped on the cushion between them, bent so that he could twine the tips of his fingers in his newly shorn hair. "Backrubs on demand," he said, after a moment's thought. "The whole concept of backrub karma, an economy built on investing in speculative backrub futures. That's love, baby."

It was so sad, Jim thought, that he'd known Sandburg for this long, and still never really realized what a dumbass he could be. "No it isn't!"

"Look, there's no such thing as movie love, okay? There's no such thing as One True Love with the capital letters and everything. It's a cultural construct. Deal with it." Sandburg untangled his fingers from his hair with effort. To Jim, it seemed like he got _more_ tangled in it, now that it was short, than he ever had when it was long. "Practically speaking, love is about the perks."

"You scare me sometimes, you really do."

Sandburg ignored him. "You get the backrubs, you get to eat off somebody else's plate, you get to use their toothbrush-- oh, wait, no, no," Sandburg gestured frantically, crossing out invisible notes. "I take that back. The perks are secondary. The point of being in love, the main thing, the whole megillah, one might say-- is the get-out-of-jail free card that exempts you from the otherwise inescapable, crushing cultural pressure that makes singles feel like losers on Valentine's Day or New Years' Eve."

Jim was starting to wonder if he'd ever really been paying _attention_ to Sandburg, before this. Shouldn't he have noticed he was living with a sociopath? "That is so sad."

"Don't underestimate culture, Jim. It's the water to the fish, the jello to the marshmallow. I'm just saying you can't be desperate about it."

"Jello?"

"Not jello! Love. I'm not impatient for the one true love that's gonna hit me like lightning, the stranger across the crowded room, some enchanted evening. I'm open to love in its many forms, its many levels of complexity, no matter how it chooses to present itself, I'm there. And therefore, love comes to me. It's a good system."

"Well, it seems to be working so far."

"Thank you," Sandburg said, Jim's sarcasm apparently having gotten lost somewhere along the way. He smiled at the ceiling. "I think so."


End file.
